Closer
by Dance Elle Dance
Summary: When she dreams, she dreams of him. And when she wakes, all she is left with is her empty bed and the even emptier feeling of loving him. EdwardLeah, oneshot


_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Twilight._

_**Summary: When she dreams, she dreams of him. And when she wakes, all she is left with is her empty bed and the even emptier feeling of loving him. EdwardLeah, oneshot**_

_I've dabbled with these two before, and I just love the idea of them together. It's a crack pairing that I absolutely adore, and I hope that everyone enjoys reading this little drabble thing of mine! I know I'll enjoy writing it!_

* * *

**Closer**

* * *

He is whispering in her ear, a gentle cadence that soothes the prickling hairs on her neck.

His fingers wrap coolly around the slender column of her neck, playing with the boyishly short strands of her hair. They are cool - oh, so cool. So cold that they make her shiver down to her very bones. It has been a very long time since she has felt cold.

Full lips press, hard and hungry, against hers, and he pulls her closer, _so _close that she feels as if she's going to suffocate from either the smell or the fact that it feels so right that she wants to run.

She wants to run, because this piece of perfection is just _too _perfect.

And for her, perfection never lasts.

But for now, she believes that it just might, and she winds her thin hands, rough with calluses even in her dreams, through his bronze hair and pulls him even tighter against her lean body.

Clothes are shed, and she's now naked in front of him, his hungry topaz eyes fixated only on her and no one else. It is something that comforts her as well as disturbs her - that she is dreaming of someone so _imperfect _for her and so_ different_ from her.

She shivers yet again, and the sensation is so foreign that it thrills her enough to bring her closer.

Her hands are fisted in his mop of bronze hair once more and she doesn't want to let go.

Never, never, _never_.

Possessive and angry despite herself, she crashes her lips tightly on his mouth, and the feeling is something unlike anything she's ever experienced, including the utter love she once felt for Sam.

That was no more, of course.

He's hovering over her now, and she knows what is to come next. She welcomes it, in fact. Wants it so bad that she thinks she might lose her mind if it doesn't happen she would go insane.

Her fingers reach for him, grasping him to her body. Long nails trail their way down his back, leaving red marks that heal soon after. Their skin together is almost comical - the darkness of her skin, and the snowy white of his pallor. But somehow, it fits better than anything she has ever imagined.

He enters her and it's everything she's ever wanted and more.

_So _much more.

She arches her back, grasping at his hair, and his breath - cold and sickly sweet - washes over her naked form.

"_Leah_."

Her name is like a sacred prayer on his lips, which he repeats constantly as his thrusts increase.

And, someone help her, she moans his name, loud and fierce and with all the conviction that she feels inside her at the moment.

"Ed…ward…"

There is something almost damning about it. Relinquishing control to him in every way, but there was also something completely _right _about it. Something that not even she could describe.

He presses deeper inside her and she sees white starbursts underneath her eyelids.

And she wakes.

Her eyes flutter open, and she curses herself for allowing the damned dream to come again.

There is no light left in her small room. Just the comfort of blinding red letters that signal the time is a quarter after three in the morning. She realizes her breath is heavy, excited. Blood rushes hard and fast through her veins, and she revels in the excitement that comes to her every night in the form of the dream she tries so hard to remove from her thoughts. She has slept later than usual, though, and that is something that she is proud of. Though, she knows she needs to get more sleep, or she would be very cranky in the morning.

_Not that I wouldn't be cranky anyway… _came Leah's bitter thought, following her musings.

She rises from the bed and tries to forget the fact that it is empty - like always.

Her feet guide her to the window, and her fingers grace the glass, making the glass fog where her too-hot temperature touches the too-cold surface.

For a moment, she imagines it is his skin.

She shakes her head, an abrupt motion that causes her to lose balance. It is too early for that sort of thing, and she has just woken up. She supposes it wasn't the smartest thing to do. Not when she still feels his cold hands gripping her hips and his mouth on her pulse point.

She is alone, and that is how it's been for a while.

She should be used to it.

_Should._

But a part of her aches for the Cullen - that damned, arrogant, mind-reading Cullen. She wonders if she has a thing for men who are taken.

The dark skinned girl inhales shakily, and wonders what has become of her. She thinks of everything that has happened in the span of time since the little vamp-lover and _he _tied the knot, and it greets her with a twisting pain deep in her chest.

Suddenly, she wants to thrust her fist through the fragile glass. She would welcome the cuts, the blood, but then all too soon, her wounds would close. Not that the particular gift was a problem, but the whole point of that would be to physically _feel _something painful to match with the pain that simmers in her chest.

It would be futile, so she doesn't do that.

The moonlight shines down in a clear, cloudless night. Her dark eyes scan out the window, over the yard in front of her, and she sighs.

Then, movement.

With her human eyes, she could never have been able to see the ghostly white that darted across the field, but as a member of the Quileute legend herself - although most likely an unwelcome one - she could see perfectly clear.

White skin made even paler, almost translucent, by the faint tinges of moonlight that touched him, was something that her eyes easily picked out among the various other things that could have her attention.

The bronze hair was a dead giveaway.

But after that, after that brief glance of him, she feels the pain pierce her heart, impaling it with an unbearably miserable feeling.

_I'm seeing things…surely, I'm seeing things. _She thinks to herself, clenching the fabric of the baggy nightshirt she wears.

She isn't sure that she is imagining him.

But she wants him to be real, not an imagination, though the chances of that are slim.

She _wants _him to come gaze at her like he cares.

The Clearwater woman chalks it up to some lingering emotion from her dream, but she knows it is far from that.

The feelings she has for him are something that isn't imaginary, she can be sure of that. As sure as she can be about anything like that. She bites her lip as she mentally wills the figure of him to come back.

It doesn't.

So she turns around, glances at the empty, _empty _bed, and feels tears spring to her eyes.

Leah Clearwater then lets out a miserable sob.

* * *

He looks at her, his topaz eyes betray the emotion he has tried so hard to keep at bay.

He hears her sobs through the thick wall of her house, sees the way her shoulders shake, hears her incessant, saddened thoughts over and over inside his head.

_Oh, God. What have I become? Pining over a damn __**leech**__? I'm so stupid…so stupid…_

He winces as he hears her fist collide with something solid. A desk, maybe. It takes all of his willpower not to jump through the window and make sure she's okay.

_Stupid…_

He clenches his fist so hard that he feels that he may just crumble the stone of his hand with the pressure.

He looks at the she-wolf beyond the glass, sees her proud shoulders shake with every sob and feels his un-beating heart lurch for this already broken woman.

His thought is an anguished one, so much so he feels as if he is burning, _What have I done to you, Leah?_

He lingers, only for a bit more, before he turns and runs into the darkness, denying all the feelings that he ever felt for her. He has a family - a daughter, a wife, sisters, brothers, mother, father… If he gave in, he would be betraying all of them.

In all of his years, Edward Cullen has never felt more the coward.

* * *

_**End.**_

_I…don't really know what this is. I guess I just wanted to write an EdwardLeah and this came out! I really hope that everyone liked this second attempt at writing this pairing. I would love to hear everyone's opinions on it. _

_Please review, it would mean a lot! _

_Thanks for reading! _


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